In Death
by GerudoGirl89
Summary: The Arbiter's Grounds carry many memories. For Zelda, certain experiences remain forever, impacting her entire life. Who knew a simple girl, destined to die, could change the way Zelda thinks of the Hylian race, of the Royal Family, and of life itself?
1. Chapter 1

**My dramatic return from the dead! dA became more interesting, and less restrictive, than FFN, so I'm mainly over there now. I WILL update Twilite on FFN, but the good stuff, the re-edited stuff will all be on dA.**

**This is kinda different from the real Zelda storyline, but I don't care. :)**

* * *

The Arbiter's Grounds.

Long ago, it was used as a temple for the Gerudo tribe. In those days, the grounds were called "Vashil fe Nyran," or "Temple of Spirits." It was a holy ground; no other races were allowed. Here the Gerudo guarded their sacred treasures and idols, hoping to preserve their history when even they ceased to exist in Hyrule.

During the Great War, it became a prison for captured soldiers of any race when the fortress's cells filled. Afterward, the survivors were sent home to their families under the laws of a new treaty. The Gerudo promised themselves it would never happen was seventeen years ago. Now, the Gerudo lived in those very same cells. Many cried for their violated temple and shattered treasures, for the traditions held sacred to them for centuries. They prayed to Din and to their Goddess of the Sand to save them, to no avail. The Hylians made it clear that the only way they'd ever leave the "Arbiter's Grounds" was in death.

Princess Zelda remembered such times. Four years ago, her father the King of Hyrule had walked with her down the halls of the Arbiter's Grounds, she only a shy girl of twelve years old, clutching her father's hand and staring with wide blue eyes at the prisoners. They were all female, dressed in scanty clothes suited to the desert heat. Each woman looked roughly alike, long noses, bright red hair, yellow eyes, tanned skin. But as she gawked at their ferocious expressions, she began to pick up subtle differences. Some had lighter skin than others did; in one girl, there was a hint of brown in her yellow eyes, and her hair was darker red than her cellmates were.

Zelda also noticed that while some were meek and frightened, others were loud and boisterous. One woman with scars all over her face yelled, in a desert-accented voice, "Hey, Daphnes! What'd you bring your girl for, eh? Planning to raise her into an executioner?" she leered at Zelda, who nervously hid behind her father. The woman cackled. Many of the prisoners took up the call.

Daphnes waited until the laughing subsided, his blue eyes like chips of ice. Calmly, he said, "No, I am not. I am here to teach Zelda that you and your _people_," he said the word with a vicious, sarcastic inflection, "deserve to be exterminated."  
This did not frighten the Gerudo woman. In fact, she seemed greatly amused by his words. She glanced down the row. "Ain't that a cute little Hylian comment?" she asked loudly.

Zelda turned to see. There was a cell at the end of the hall instead of a door, and in this cell, a figure hung from chains in the ceiling. At first, the figure didn't stir. It was dark, but Zelda could see the faint outline of a woman.

"Pathetic." The voice was faint, high, and cold. "They always think they can rule us, don't they, Areu?"

The scarred woman laughed. "Yeah, they do," she replied. "Look at her," she added to Daphnes. He spoke a word.

Zelda gaped in shock as lights flared to life in the cell. The prisoner was roughly her age, wearing ragged clothes. Her tan tunic, decorated with Gerudo symbols at the hem, was torn and covered in bloodstains. Her dark red hair was matted, falling in dirty tangles to her thin shoulders. At her waist was a belt, with two empty loops of leather, indicating that the Hylian guards had confiscated her weapons. A prickle of horror crawled up Zelda's spine. The girl's face was covered in cuts, some healed into thick scars, some still open and oozing blood. Imposed over the cuts were colorful bruises and angry red whip marks. She'd been tortured repeatedly.

The girl didn't look up. "I don't need to." Her voice was rueful. "I know. I see it in all of us."

"But we mustn't let ourselves be defeated," growled a third voice. This was a very tall, broad-shouldered woman in the cell across from Areu. "You know that, Kytha."

Kytha shifted, the chains clinking on the walls. "No. We must remain together. No matter what the cost." She lifted her head. Her amber eyes sparkled fiercely despite her pain. She took a deep breath and stood tall. "Eit cama af rizar!" she shouted. Zelda flinched at the loud echo and caught her father's hand.

"Aziedi mi Hylians! Eit cama Rizar Ganondorf!" Every Gerudo woman in the hall took up the cry simultaneously. Even those that had huddled in corners, crying and praying, looked up and whispered the Gerudian words. It was an endless mantra, a testament to the bravery and dedication of the Desert Children. They ignored everything else, their pain, their sorrow, King Daphnes and his irritation, his young daughter and her fear. The only thing that existed was the continuous war cry in their rough desert language.

"SILENCE!" roared the king, but no one listened. They kept up the chant until five soldiers rushed into the room, bearing thin swords.

"Be quiet!" the leader, a man Zelda recognized as Bairm, yelled. "Or see how well you can talk with your tongues cut out!"

Kytha barked a phrase, and the women fell silent. Everyone waited for her to speak, to beg forgiveness, anything. Zelda held her breath. The soldier seemed satisfied, but Zelda had the odd feeling Kytha would not beg or cry. And she was right.

Coldly, Kytha said, "Long live King Ganondorf."

Bairm snatched up a sturdy staff and poked it through the bars, jabbing the girl in the stomach. She didn't flinch, not even as the force of the poke sent her crashing into the hard stone wall behind her. "He's not here to save you," Bairm hissed. "You'll _never _see him again!"

"That's all you know," said Kytha quietly. She gazed around at her friends, and her voice grew louder. "Isn't he here with us now, sisters? He's in this very prison; you cannot stop his spirit from finding us! Though he may be imprisoned, he will be with us to the very end."

"Kytha is wise in this respect." Areu spoke quietly, but everyone heard her. "Our king would never abandon us."

Kytha smirked, and leaned over until she was at eye level with the kind, bracing her bare, scarred feet against the wall. "The Gerudo are loyal," she said softly. "We protect each other, fight for each other, die for each other. We are not like you Hylians. You steal from your own kind, you lie and cheat and yes, even kill. Gerudos never hurt their sisters, for if they did, they would be exiled.

"This temple was once sacred to our people. You have desecrated it beyond belief. To you, nothing is sacred. You may say that your Temple of Time is the most sacred object in all of Hyrule, but why? The ancient walls of that temple have seen murders, lies, conspiracies. Those who think most highly of it bloody its history.

"You think the Hylian race is so much better than we are, but I disagree. What makes _you _better than us? Our king was raised to suit the tribe! You, Daphnes, why are you king?"

"Because I was born to the Royal family!" Daphnes hissed, and Zelda, frightened by the hatred in her father's eyes, cowered at the sudden venomous words. Daphnes actually trembled in fury. The soldiers, transfixed by the girl's speech, suddenly came to attention and gripped their swords, prepared to kill this talkative warrior.

Kytha nodded gravely. "Because you were born to it. What makes you better than any man in the street? Are you the strongest, the bravest, the most loyal man in all of Hyrule? No. You are merely of the Royal family. The Gerudo do not have a Royal family. Whoever is best suited wins the position of King or Queen. We are always ruled by the best, and you? Your leaders are corrupt, cruel, willing to sacrifice their entire country for personal gain. We are not selfish that way. Your people must adapt to suit the desires of the new King. We don't need to do that."

"Enough," barked Bairm. "If you know what's best for you, wench, you'll hold your tongue before we cut it out of your head."

Kytha seemed amused. "Tell me, Hylian," she said innocently, "how many women are in your company?"

His eyes widened in confusion, his threat forgotten. "None, of course!" he sputtered. His cheeks turned mottled red for some strange reason Zelda couldn't identify.

Kytha nodded again. "There are no women in combat in Hyrule. You _people_," she spat the word out, and some of the women hissed, "treat women like you _own _them." She looked directly at Zelda. "Your country is ruled by men. Your women are taught to stay at home and work, to bear children and to never question their position in life. How is that fair?"

"Be _quiet_," the king rumbled, but Kytha paid no attention.

"And what of you, Pretty Princess?" she asked Zelda, eyes sparkling with mockery. "They teach you useful lessons in ruling a country, but you will marry and the country will fall the _man_, not you. What do you have to offer the kingdom of Hyrule besides your children and your pretty manners?"

Hot anger surged through Zelda's body, eliminating her terror. In a cold, haughty voice she replied, "You are ruled by _a man._"

"But that man was deemed worthy to rule us," Kytha replied calmly. She seemed unaffected by Zelda's hostility. "Many times throughout our history, a male has been unsuited to rule us."

"Enough of this." Daphnes's voice was cold, harsh. "Execute her, tonight. She's dangerous; she'll escape with her wicked words and mysterious powers."

Kytha bowed her head, listening to the screams of fear and howls of outrage from her people. A tear slid down her cheek. "Sisters, quiet yourselves!" she cried. Her voice cracked a little. "If I must die, so be it. It is the will of the Gods."

"Kytha, I promised I'd protect you," protested Areu, sarcastic humor gone with Kytha's proclamation. "I—"

"Stop, Areu. If I must die, so be it."

"But I promised Ganondorf," Areu whispered. The girl bowed her head.

"My father will forgive you." There was sorrow in her voice, and tears began to flow freely from her eyes. "Don't despair."

Areu bowed, but she too was crying. Seeing this as an opportunity to escape without looking weak, Daphnes seized Zelda's arm and pulled her from the room.

* * *

Outside the door, Zelda pulled free from her father. "Father," she said, in a trembling voice. "Why are you letting them kill that girl?"  
Daphnes halted in his tracks. "She's a dangerous killer," he said harshly. "Ganondorf taught her horrible things, how to kill and destroy without leaving a trace. If we allowed her to survive, Hyrule itself would crumble."

"She's only a little girl," persisted Zelda, blue eyes shining anxiously. "Maybe we could teach her not to hurt us, maybe she could make the Gerudo be friends with us!"

"No." Daphnes grasped Zelda's shoulder and gave her a little shake. "She's a Gerudo. They're vicious, backstabbing creatures. It's in their blood. The girl deserves to die."

"Why?" Zelda asked. "Because she's a Gerudo? That's not fair."

"She's a Gerudo and the daughter of the most evil warlord Hyrule has ever seen," snapped Daphnes. "She deserves to be exterminated like the vermin she is."

Zelda had never heard her father sound so angry and mean before. It actually frightened her. Images kept flashing through her mind, the crying Kytha, Areu and the other Gerudo bellowing their battle cry, the scars, blood, and whip marks on the tan skin of almost every prisoner. Sudden fear of the brutality of the Hylian race descended on her mind. _Kytha was right_, she realized. _We kill for our own gain. She's going to die because Daddy thinks she's bad. But she's only a little girl!_

* * *

Zelda was quiet all the rest of the afternoon, listening and watching as Gerudo women of varying sizes and ages lounged in cells, chatting with soldiers and occasionally calling sarcastic greetings to Daphnes, calling him "Majesty" and "Rizar." The rest of the day, she kept thinking of Kytha's upcoming execution, which Daphnes had decided to attend. She would have to go too, of course. Daphnes privately believed that witnessing the execution of that little brat would destroy her slender conviction that Gerudo were equal to Hylians. Gerudo were scum, inferior beings.

Right?

* * *

At last, the gong sounded. Daphnes pulled Zelda up the torch-lit, narrow staircase, eyes grim, face set. Zelda was shaking in fear and horror. She knew what happened next: Kytha was to die as soon as the king gave permission.

Zelda gaped openly when the King led her up the open-air stairs to the coliseum. Enormous stone seats made of white marble were arranged in almost a circle, save for the empty space where the stairs were, covered in expensive cloths and banners. Soldiers and even common folk sat in these seats, chatting, laughing, here to enjoy the spectacle of murder. She felt slightly sick. This was_ entertainment _to them. Kytha was to die because a bunch of rough commoners wanted to see a Gerudo bleed.

"Father, I can't do this," she whispered. "This is horrible."

He gripped her hand tightly. "This is the price of war, Zelda. This is the fate of _all _Gerudo, hear me?" he gave her a small shake. "Now come on. We needn't look weak to the commoners."

"That's all this is to you!" she cried, breaking free from Daphnes. "You're killing her because you know that's what the people want! They want death, you give it to them, so can you can look better for Hyrule!"

"That's life, Zelda!" he snapped. "It matters not. That girl is a Gerudo. Now take your place."

Hot tears streaming down her face, Zelda sat beside Daphnes, gazing stonily out into the crowd. None of the commoners noticed her tears; they were too interested in the exhibition below.

Ten soldiers walked into the execution chamber, each dressed to impress, with bright cloaks and polished armor. Behind them trailed twenty or so Gerudo women, ragged and dirty, chained together to a single train. The crowd booed and hissed. Some even threw things, rotten fruit, rocks, bits of scrap metal. The sick feeling in Zelda's heart deepened. The soldiers weren't even trying to stop the tormenting throng, but rather looked as if they were enjoying it.

The gong sounded again, and the audience slowly quieted. Daphnes stood. Zelda peered anxiously at the chamber entrance.

Two soldiers flanked a tiny figure. She walked unbound, but the soldiers had their weapons trained on her. Zelda gaped when Kytha moved into the light. Her hair was brushed and washed, her scarred face clean of blood. In place of her ripped clothes were a clean blood red tunic, black leggings, and a clean long-sleeved black shirt. Around her throat hung a traditional amber Gerudo necklace.

The crowd roared, quieted only when the gong rang once more. Zelda was sobbing now, but quietly, lest her father hear. It was weakness to cry when a Gerudo was executed. They were scum, nothing more. It was _right _to do this, said Daphnes frequently.

Father would _never _lie to her, right?

Kytha stepped up onto the platform. The Gerudo women were pulled into place, backs to the crowd, facing the Gerudo child. There were tears sparkling on many of their faces.

"Kytha Dragmire will be allowed her final words," intoned the King, sweeping his long gray hair back. "Speak now, Dragmire, or hold your words in death."

Kytha smiled through her sorrow. "Thanks, Daphnes." The knights growled at her, but she ignored it. She opened her mouth . . . .

A drop of water fell on her cheek. Startled, she looked up. The sky was dark with clouds. It was raining, rain at last in the dry, harsh Gerudo Desert. A cool, dry wind raced through the Arbiter's Grounds, and the Hylians covered their faces from the dust and sand.

"Sisters!" Kytha cried suddenly, and everything was still. "The Goddesses have seen fit to bring us rain. Perhaps this is their way of answering our prayers." She bowed her head. "Let us pray to Lady Din, and to our Goddess of the Sand, whom no Hylian is allowed to know." There were scowls among the Hylians. After a moment, Kytha lifted her head. "Sisters, do no mourn for me. Continue to pray for your lives, so we may find peace in the afterlife. In the name of Bright Din, Gentle Nayru, and Strong Farore, may you all find the peace of the gods, and may the Hylian race face justice for their crimes against us."

"Enough." The command issued cruelly from Daphnes's mouth. "Enough of this. Kill her, and be done with it."

"Kytha!" Areu screamed. "Don't let them do this. Kill them! Use your powers to save yourself!"

Kytha bowed her head. "I cannot. I am a sacrifice for you. I am willing to die for my people. I always knew it would end up this way. I but one regret in life; I cannot die over and over so you may be spared."

The soldier began to approach the platform, dagger in hand. "Father!" screamed Zelda, sobbing openly now, sleeves sodden from wiping them constantly over her eyes. "Stop this! She's only a little girl! She —"

The next words never left Zelda's mouth, for at that moment Daphnes lost control. He slapped the child across the face with a tremendous force, sending her sprawling in the stands. His blow left a bright red mark on Zelda's face. The commoners yelled, the Gerudo screamed and cried, and the executioner gave a vicious laugh.

Kytha cried out. Zelda, cradling her cheek and weeping harder than ever, looked up. Blood streamed from Kytha's chest, but she was still alive; the man had not pierced her heart. She looked into the tear-streaked faces of her sisters, into the eyes of her guard, Areu, her only true friend, then into the stands. Her pain-filled amber eyes met the princess's crystal-blue, terrified ones. _Remember, _a voice seemed to whisper in Zelda's head. _Remember what I said. Remember me. Protect them._

Then, Kytha collapsed, arms outstretched, to the stones of the Arbiter's Grounds chamber and moved no more.

And as she died, the rain began to fall upon the parched earth of Gerudo's Valley, fulfilling the prayers of the Gerudo tribe.  


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**I'm shocked this kind of thing came from me. Really. I have NO idea why I wrote this. I was feeling depressed, and I was thinking of the Arbiter's Grounds for some reason. Anyway, don't forget to review!**

**Also, I sent this to a friend, and he said I should write one about Zelda during Ganondorf's execution, to kinda tie into this. What do you think?**


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter 2: Five Years Later**

**Hey, how's it going? Yes, a miracle came down from the heavens and granted me the strength to write a new chappy. :) I own nothing except my characters/plot, read on. :)**

* * *

Daphnes Nonhasen Hyrule I was dead.

Five years after that fateful day in the Arbiter's Grounds, a fatal disease swept through Hyrule, killing hundreds. Some said it originated from Termina, brought into the Hylian borders by a pair of traveling Zora. All Princess Zelda knew was that it had infected everyone. No one, young or old, rich or poor, were spared.

Now, it had taken her father.

She sat in his burial chamber, pale hand gently touching his cold, marble like face. She had long since cried herself out. She knew, in the depths of her heart, that the gods would take pity on him and welcome him to their halls.

Daphnes would be buried in three days. As his successor, Zelda now had to grow up too early and take command of a damaged country. In those five years, famine, drought, floods, and now an epidemic ravaged the whole of Hyrule. The Zoras' fish supply was slowly drying up, the Goron Mines almost completely stripped of anything useful in metalworking or bomb manufacturing. There were still a handful of Gerudo left to be tried and executed, including their leader himself, Ganondorf Dragmire.

All of a sudden, a particular memory floated to the surface of her consciousness, a little girl, dressed in Gerudo clothes, leading a war chant in a house of Death. The Arbiter's Grounds.

It had been years since Zelda even thought of Kytha, but now that she did, it opened a vault of frightening memories and implications. She recalled the girl's words about women and about the Royal Family. _"And what of you, Pretty Princess? They teach you useful lessons in ruling a country, but you will marry and the country will fall the man, not you. What do you have to offer the kingdom of Hyrule besides your children and your pretty manners?"_

Kytha's dying words had been, _Remember what I said. Remember me. Protect them. _However, had Zelda really protected the Gerudo? Throughout the five years, she ignored the problem. She let her father continue to kill them, knowing the price she would have to pay for standing up to him. He hurt her when she protested.

_Kytha, I . . . I failed. _Tears dripped from her eyes. _I am so sorry._

"Princess, the nobles wish a conversation." Impa stood at the door, face expressionless. She wore a traditional Sheikah mourning cloak over her black tunic. Her silver facial markings were tears, representing the loss of her leader. "They need to talk to you about the trade agreements and such."  
Zelda nodded. She stood and followed Impa from the room. Nevertheless, she could not leave her thoughts behind. They, like unhappy ghosts, followed her down the halls, preying on her mind, tormenting her, forcing her to remember that a far nobler girl than Zelda died for her people.

Daphnes often called the Gerudo cowards. But Zelda had the feeling that the Hylians were not the braver race.

Fifteen nobles, each the leader of a particular House, sat around the long conference table, their wives beside them. In addition, a representative of each race and their vice-representative held honored positions closer to Zelda's chair at the head of the table. King Zora and his daughter Ruto, Gor Darunia and his mate, Impa and her Sheikah friend, Seta. These were the pair frowned upon the most, for no one in the Council, as they were called, believed a _woman _should be above a _man. _Zelda noted that there was no one to sit as her second in command.

Link, the Hero of Time, slipped into the room, worn boots making no sound on the carpeted floor. He smiled a little at Zelda and took his seat behind her own. It made sense, of course. Link was officially Hyrule's Hero, with more power than anyone but Zelda herself, and anyone she saw fit to place higher on the chain. She disliked this thought, for Link, even though he was a very good friend and a loyal supporter of her family, was not very political. Nevertheless, her father had insisted Link stay as a permanent council.

"I apologize, Highness, for my lateness," he said formally. "And I offer my condolences to you for the loss of your father."

Zelda smiled gently, hiding her breaking heart. _Put on your best diplomatic face, Zelda,_ she told herself._ Don't show your emotions. _"Thank you, Link," she said softly. "Now, if we may begin?"

They all nodded, and Zelda stood. "There is an issue I wish to raise today," she said. She gazed out the window pensively, preparing herself for her little speech. "It concerns the Arbiter's Grounds. There are still some Gerudo who remain, imprisoned, in the desert. I wish to release them."  
Everyone looked politely puzzled, and she winced internally. This was a bad idea. "What do you mean, Princess?" inquired Link. She glanced at him.

"The only reason they have been held so long is simply because they are Gerudo," she responded. "Why must the whole tribe suffer for their leader? Surely, they deserve the chance to live, now that they have been punished."

"My dear Princess." There was a voice she detested. It was the representative of Nayru Court, a good friend of her father's by the name of Marin. Now he stood, a patronizing expression on his pudgy face. "The Gerudo are _vermin, _my dear. They do not deserve the _chance _to live. They are not human, like us. They are not the Chosen People of The Three. They are the demon-spawn, the Great Mistake of Lady Din. They are _nothing _but desert rats, the scum of Hyrule. They deserve no mercy after what their King did to us . . . ."

"But is it not true," she asked, "that we, in a sense, drove them to it?"

Marin looked baffled. "What on earth do you mean, my dear?"

"Six hundred years ago, King Eshiko Gustav Hyrule drove the Gerudo from their place in what is now known as Eldin Field in order to expand his borders for the Chosen People. He forced them into the desert, where they could grow no food. They were forced to steal from the Chosen People to survive, and when they did, Eshiko ordered his mages to send a plague to them. He killed more than half of the desert people using that plague. And for what reason? To make sure that a minority that had so little had even less? Why is that right, humane? They are Din's Children just as we are The Children of The Three. Farore created the Kokiri straight from the earth, the Deku children from the wood of the trees. Nayru brought forth Sheikah from the shadows of death," she nodded to Impa, "and Zoras from the oceans," she acknowledged the Zora diplomats, "and Din birthed the Gorons from the heart of the fire. Din's Children were Gerudo as well, and they have a claim to the world the Goddesses created, do they not? Why are they less than any other race?"

"They stole from us," growled Marin. There was anger in his voice now, and his expression was anything but kind. "They killed. They stole. They are _not _worthy. Their King, Dragmire, he ruined everything for everyone with his false promises of allegiance."

"For a good reason," replied Zelda. "If he had begged for help, would anyone have listened? He had to promise my father many things to even receive food! Silks, jewelry, weaponry, all for the benefits of the Hylians, not for the Zora or the Gorons. Why are Hylian people so selfish?!"

"That us _enough._" Another noble, by the name of Avane, stood up. His face was a mottled red. "Lady Impa," he said, not even bothering to look at her. "I cannot believe you have allowed this girl to be raised this way! What kind of dangerous thinking is this? The Gerudo are _scum_, Princess. They do not deserve your kindness. They deserve to be eliminated. They are _nothing. _Perhaps you heard their screams for mercy at the time of their deaths, but they were painted lies. The Gerudo lied and cheated and stole. They are nothing but cold-blooded murderers."

Impa stood up. "With your permission, Princess, I would like to end this discussion early," she said softly. "We are getting nowhere, and the discussion can be resumed at any time."

"All in favor of Princess Zelda's suggestion?" demanded Marin, glaring around the table. Not a single person raised their hand. "Then it is unanimous. The Gerudo will remain where they are. Ganondorf Dragmire's execution will not change. Two months from now, on the full moon, he will meet his fate, the fate handed down from the Goddesses themselves to Sage Rauru. Thank you for your time, Your Majesty."

One by one, the diplomats rose and left the chamber, leaving Zelda alone with her thoughts.

As the last person left the chamber, Princess Zelda sat down limply in her chair, eyes blurred with tears. _And I failed a second time. Kytha, forgive my inadequacies. I cannot help your people._

Zelda sat in that chair for a long time, swept away by the limitless waves of grief. She remembered Kytha dying as though it were only yesterday. Then she thought of her father, the man she both hated and loved unconditionally. He had been a greedy, cold, egotistical man, and for that, she despised him with all her heart. Nevertheless, he had also been her father, with some parental feelings for her, and she could not help loving him no matter what the consequences. She remembered all the times she'd heard him quietly complain about her being a girl. Still, he cared for her, even if she had disappointed him.

"Princess, let me tell you something." Impa sat beside her, putting one strong arm around her shoulders. "You cannot change the world we live in. You are but a youth, and a woman, of all things. There is nothing you can do for the Gerudo."

"Why not?" asked Zelda miserably. There were still tears drying on her face.

"I should know," sighed Impa. "There was nothing I could do for the Sheikah. I begged your father to let them come from the shadows, to live as others do. Nevertheless, he refused me. He said Hyrule could not hold them. They too were inferior in his eyes. I was the only one he deemed worthy to live in this world, as his servant, his captain, his unmatched warrior. I was nothing to him. Seta is lucky he can even be here."

"Why the Sheikah?" asked Zelda. "Why are they treated this way?"

"They are of the evil side of the world. They are the antithesis of the Hylians, the Shadow Tribe, the Death Clan. The Gerudo are of Spirits, things Hylians do not wish to know of. They think of spirits as evil. They do not want to understand them, to control them, in the manner that some Gerudo can. They think it is wrong, they think it is an abomination. Their loose manner offends the stiff formalities and long-held traditions of nobility amongst your people. My people, the Sheikah, are _too_ noble, too proud, for a group that holds no gemstone like the Kokiri, the Gorons, or the Zora. Remember, my dear, that the Hylians have the greatest treasure, the Triforce. The three gemstones belong to the people of the Earth, Fire, and Water. The Shadow and Spirit children are nothing. They are lesser beings. Such is the way of things, and after so many centuries, it will not be changed by one person with little to no support such as you." Infinite sadness showed on her caretaker's face, and for the first time, Zelda saw the toll the years of sorrow, of stress and pain, had taken. Behind the silvery paint, faint lines began to show on Impa's pale face. For a woman of only thirty-five, the white hair combined with those lines seemed to age her far beyond her years, making her seem somber and wise, yet world-weary from all she had endured.

Carefully, she touched Impa's cheek. "I understand," she whispered. "I only wish I could have helped Kytha and her people."

Impa sighed. "You cannot help everyone, child," she said, and rose. Zelda did too. She needed to think about all her nursemaid had said.

~*~

_Zelda knew she was dreaming the moment her eyes fluttered shut._

_In her dream, she sat on a field of blackness. There was a ghostly light illuminating the figure before her. It was a small, thin girl with amber eyes and hair as red as blood. There was a solemn look on her tan face. "Hello, Zelda," she said. "Long time, no see."_

_"Kytha?" she asked. Her voice sounded strange to her own ears. She was twelve years old again, the same age she'd been when Kytha died._

_Kytha nodded. "Why are you so sorrowful, Pretty Princess?" she asked. "When I asked you to protect them, I only wanted you to try. Even I knew there was no changing fate. There was, and still is, nothing to be done. Do not punish yourself. You did all you could."_

_"But I cannot save them," she whispered. "I tried. I tried. But . . . ."_

_Kytha nodded. "Again, there is nothing you can do. I know a lost cause. I know when to fight and when to give up, when to run. Give up, Princess."_

_"I am so sorry, Kytha," she said, crying now. "For everything."_

Kytha placed one arm around her shoulders. Zelda noticed her arms were strong, like Impa's, but somehow weightless. "I know, Zelda," she murmured. "It's all right. But please, when my father dies . . . ." she paused. "Be there with him, would you please? Just be there, speak with him. It has been many years since he had any company besides the spirits of the dead that torment his soul. I want you to hear the story. It is the price of all our lives, the reason we have died in this manner, which he must speak of before he dies. The legacy of the Gerudo. The life and death of Ganondorf Dragmire. I want you to understand, to pass it on to your children. Perhaps, in a hundred years, there will be decency among the Royal Family once more."

_Then she vanished, leaving Zelda alone in the darkness once more._

~*~

She left the castle two days later without a single warning. She buried her father in stolid silence, went to the banquets, and mourned properly. Then she was gone, with her horse, supplies, and Impa, gone to the Great Desert that her ancestors forced the Gerudo into. She hid among the poorest of Hylians, beside travelling merchants, with Impa always disguising herself with the shadows. Then they were clear; Lake Hylia far behind them, gleaming in the summer sun, and the heat of the desert was upon them. Zelda ignored her discomfort. There would be time for that later.

When they reached the Arbiter's Grounds, Zelda was heartbroken to see the increased state of dilapidation. The strong stone walls of her childhood memories were had crumbled with time. The gold adornments and statues had worn away, but she had a strong suspicion that some of them had been stolen."May I go in alone, Impa?" she asked, staring into the blackness of the temple. "I think . . . I think they want me."  
Impa nodded. "I would not go into a Gerudo temple anyway," she answered. "They do not like Sheikah folk." She eyed the twin stone pillars beside the entrance. "I will wait outside."

Zelda thanked her and walked into the temple. This too was more decayed than her memories. Sand worms leaped carelessly in and out of the quicksand pouring in from the walls. She swatted at any that dared come close with her sword. She had to find the secret panel her father showed her . . . .

_Right here, Princess. _Zelda whirled around, sword held high. But it was only Kytha, silvery and transparent, forever young and strong. She smiled grimly at Zelda. Zelda noticed the sword wound in her chest still bled slowly, and had the feeling it would bleed for eternity. _Did you think I'd leave you? _she asked. _Foolish, very foolish. You should have come with everyone else. The execution party doesn't leave for a week or more._

"I wanted to speak with him," responded Zelda. Her heart still pounded from the shock. "I wanted to know . . . where is he?"

_I'll show you. S_he waved a hand at the seemingly innocent wall, and it slid back. _This is the way. Beware the spirits of my sisters. They will not harm you as long as I am your guide, but do not stray too far. They are lonely and angry. They will not hesitate to hurt an aimless traveler._

Zelda slipped into the tunnel. It was pitch black, but very narrow. She could not fully stretch out her arms. Kytha was the only bright thing in the passage. She floated ahead, and Zelda followed quickly, frightened to be alone in the dark. The journey was long and almost sinister. Zelda could hear faint whispers behind the stones, the hiss of the falling sand above them, and the shrill, discordant screech of ReDeads behind the wall. Neither of them spoke for a long while. Finally, Zelda murmured, "I feel the dead."

_There are many of us still here. We did not want to leave each other. I myself refused to depart, knowing that this is my punishment. I will stay until the last Gerudo spirit fades away, and long after that. This is my domain. I must protect it. it is my__** ashaa**__, my duty. I will protect my people as long as I can. _She paused. Another silvery figure drifted toward them. It was a Gerudo woman with a patch over one eye, missing her right arm. It too bled, like the huge cut across her throat. _Go back to sleep, Maka, _said Kytha calmly. _it is not your time. This girl is no hapless traveler. She is here to see my father._

Maka nodded, and vanished into the darkness. Kytha sighed. _They are angry, _she said. _With me, with everything. They did not wish it this way. I know my father did not wish it this way._

"What was your father like?" Zelda asked. "Before this all happened."

Kytha stood oddly still for a moment. _He was kind, _she said finally. _Gentle. He loved my sisters and me very much. Our mother died when Arien was born. Somehow, she always worried he blamed her for it when she was younger. But he didn't. He cared for each of us unconditionally. He raised us with integrity, intelligence, physical strength. He was rarely angry with us. I never heard him raise his voice to any of us. He was this way with everyone. He treated everyone as an equal. They were his sisters, his friends. Some of them raised him after _his _mother died. He asked them to be informal, not to call him "Highness" or "Lord." He won much respect from his people for his kindness._

"Then why did he kill my people?"

Kytha whirled around. Her amber eyes were alight with anger as she rose to the ceiling. Zelda flinched at her ferocity. _Why?!_she shouted, voice echoing in the narrow passage. _Your people killed _ours_! You sent us to the desert, refused to help us even when we were dying . . . you took us as slaves! Your father allowed us to die out, without any assistance . . . and when my sister died in battle in the Great War, my father was stricken with grief. He took revenge the way your people did, by destroying everything you lived for. The Triforce was his way of besting you all. But the Triforce has its compensations. He sank deeper and deeper into his fantasies of revenge, corrupted by the immense Power bestowed upon him by your sacred relic. He was not my father anymore by the time Link defeated him; he was King Ganondorf Dragmire, Lord of All, and Master of Evil. Nevertheless, my people still stood beside him, knowing that revenge was justified, but in the backs of their minds, they refused to sway before his Power. They did not kill without reason. He acted almost alone. My father no longer cared for me or Fasha or Arien. He cared for himself and the darkness. _Your _people drove him to this madness. They brought his wrath, his revenge, upon themselves._

Kytha stopped then, fists clenched, glaring down at Zelda with the weight of all her years lying dead in this unchanging world. A thousand Gerudo stared out at the Hylian Princess from behind Kytha's eyes, burning, accusing. They wanted answers, and most of all, they wanted repayment for their agony. But Zelda, frightened and helpless, could do nothing to ease their untamed rage.

"I am sorry, Kytha," she whispered."I am so sorry. I never wanted this to happen. I did not want you to die."

Kytha sank back to the floor. The fire in her eyes faded somewhat, but remained flickering in the depths of her soul. _I know, Princess, _she said, sighing. _I am sorry for frightening you. It's been so many years . . . my anger got the better of me. _She turned. _We're here. I can go no farther than this golden line. _She pointed to the ground. Zelda saw a painted golden line. _My father awaits you beyond. And . . . would you tell him I still love him? And that I forgive him?_

For the first time, Kytha Dragmire sounded like a child. She watched Zelda, her expression half-sad and half-hopeful. Zelda nodded. "I will. Thank you, Kytha, for all you have done. I have thought much about what you told me; about the roles of women in our society. I have come to realize that my world is so cruel to minorities. It is not the bright, shining utopia I thought it was. And my father was not such a great man. But yours . . . yours seems to be a better person than I ever imagined. Father once told me that Ganondorf Dragmire was a horrible individual, without any feeling for anyone . . . and I believed him. Now, I believe he was wrong. He sounds like a fine man, a good father to you and your sisters. I am sorry for lives ended this way. I am sorry you had to die. I did not want you to die this way. I begged Father to revoke the execution . . . ."

_But it was the price of war, _said Kytha gravely. _Even I understand that. My death became a certain protection for us all, a seal, an example of what we stood for. We will not be forgotten, as long as you live, Princess. Just . . . let my surviving sisters glimpse their home once more before they die. And let my father . . . let him know I love him._

Zelda nodded, and bowed. "I honor your people and your wishes," she said. "I will attempt to carry them out, but if I fail . . . ."

_I will not haunt you with it, _replied Kytha. _There is only so much to be done. _She turned to leave. _Good luck, Zelda._

She faded away. Zelda approached the end of the tunnel, shivering a bit. She quickly strode up the winding stairs to the blackened stone door. _This is it. This is the truth. This is the truth of Hyrule's greatest shame. _Carefully, she pushed the door open, entering the cell where Ganondorf Dragmire would spend his final days.


	3. Chapter 3

****

Chapter 3: The Truth of Hyrule

**Well….this is the last chapter. Next comes the epilogue. I think. See how things go. I own nothing, review please. :)**

**OKAY, I know I'm messed up. But let me explain. First, I had week-long band camp and barely had time to do anything. Secondly, I went to Spokane. I WOULD have submitted this LONG before then, but unfortunately, FFN refused to let me upload anything. I uploaded it and it either didn't show up or showed up blank. Then I got a lot of error messages trying to switch from page to page. Is anyone else having this problem?**

**Anyway, enjoy what I have, and I'm terribly sorry. I promised this ages ago.  
**

* * *

As Zelda entered the cell, the first thing she saw was the bright, multicolored flash of the Sages' magic. It coated the walls in spiraling runes, and gleamed outside the small window. It was so bright, Zelda had to shield her eyes with her hands. But the color still remained, flashing on the insides of her eyelids. Finally, it faded. Zelda opened her eyes, heart pounding in her throat, and looked around. The door had sealed itself behind her, so there was no way Ganondorf escaped, so where . . . .

She squinted. The dark figure lay on his bed, seemingly asleep. She took a step nearer. He did not move, so she crept to the side of the bed. He was a very large man, with a dark face significantly lightened by his many years imprisoned inside. His long hair streamed carelessly around him, thick and very bright red. There was a thin scar on his forehead, just above his eyebrow. His mouth twitched in his sleep.

Hesitantly, she sat in the small chair beside the bed. _What now? _she wondered. But she didn't need to worry. Less than a minute later, he awoke. He stretched absently and sat up. She flinched when his vivid amber eyes rested on her.

She stared at him, and he watched her emotionlessly. "Ganondorf Akran Dragmire," she said finally.

He smiled serenely. "Zelda Daphnesira Hyrule," he replied calmly. His deep voice had a bit of a Desert accent, but not as much as some of the Gerudo Zelda remembered. "How lovely of you to come. I hear you recently lost your father."

She blinked back sudden tears. "Yes. Did Kytha tell you that?"

His calm expression flickered. "Kytha is still here?"

She looked at him in confusion. "Of course," she said, confused. "Surely she has visited you here; she's been with me for quite a while . . . ."

Ganondorf looked out the window. "I have not seen her," he said. "As much as I have wanted to, she seems to have abandoned me. But that's expected. What I have done to her and our family . . . our people . . . ."

Zelda hesitated. "I am sorry," she said finally.

"Don't be. I deserve it. Even I know that. This is all my fault, and I must suffer for it. If Kytha wishes to punish me, then I have no choice but to accept it." There was a hard edge to his voice. Then he said, "You said you've seen her?"

Then Zelda remembered something. "Yes," she said in a small voice. "She . . . I just realized . . . there is a golden line drawn in the stones, at the base of the stairs. She told me, that is, Kytha told me, that she cannot travel past it. Is this possible?" He nodded. "Then, perhaps she wants to, but she cannot see you . . . ."

He frowned. "It's possible," he murmured, lost in thought. Zelda waited for a few minutes, but he did not seem to want to return to this world, so she cleared her throat nervously. Ganondorf then snapped to full consciousness of his surroundings. "Why are you here, Zelda?" he asked without ceremony. His eyes were harder than his voice. "Have you come to torment me in my final days? Do you think I owe you something for the destruction of your home? Am I, in your eyes, responsible for the death of your father? What's your motive, Princess?"

"Please," she said, thinking fast. "I did not meant to upset you. I only meant . . . I wanted to come here and speak with you. I wanted to . . . I wanted to know about Kytha. About your lives. About _why _you took the Triforce."

Ganondorf sat in silence awhile, face hard as stone. Zelda turned away from him, not expecting him to speak. It was too much to ask. But when he found his voice, she jumped. "Then know this, Princess," he said. His voice was solemn and cold. "When you know the history of our family, of why I did what I did, so you may find whatever peace you require and leave me alone. I do not wish to speak of it any more."

"Please?" Zelda whispered. "For me? For Hyrule? For . . . ." She cast her mind about for a reason. "For everyone."

He closed his eyes. "Very well, I shall tell you."

"Years ago, I had two beautiful daughters. Fasha, my eldest, was nine. Kytha was five. My wife, Rijia, and I were very happy, expecting our third child. However, she died when Arien was born. I knew, in the depths of my heart, that she could have been saved by medications the Hylians had. Childbirth was nothing for them! But in our culture, we lacked the skills, lacked the medicine, to stop internal bleeding. Even I could do nothing for her. She died shortly after naming Arien."

"What happened to them?" whispered Zelda.

"I raised my daughters on my own. I did the best I could, to raise them as Rijia would have wanted. They grew up well, I think." There was rueful pride in his voice. "They became better Gerudo than I."

"Did you not remarry? Certainly, someone would have been willing . . . ." Zelda did not know anything about Gerudo custom, especially marriage ceremonies and raising children. But she reasoned that, as king, Ganondorf would have his pick of wives. He could have a surrogate mother chosen for them, surely?

Ganondorf shook his head. "I never remarried. I did not want to. I loved my wife greatly. Though my sisters pressured me and the other women tried to persuade me, I could not even imagine taking another wife. I was a widower with three children, not an available bachelor. I had other responsibilities. But of course, I had some help. My sisters took care of my daughters when I could not be there for them. I tried to be with them as often as possible, but sometimes, being a leader overshadowed being a father." His face darkened. "Not that I was a good father, after all . . . ."

"What do you mean?" Zelda was curious about his sudden anger. From what Kytha had said, Ganondorf was a good man, and a good father.

He shook his head. "I failed in everything I'd ever done for them." But When Zelda tried to question him further, he ignored her. "Don't make me stop and go over things, Princess. I want to get this over with quickly.

"Five years after Arien was born, she became deathly ill. I could not even save her. We were holding talks with the Hylians about sending medical supplies and such to us, but they were unsuccessful; we never received any aid. She died within three days. I could not save my own daughter. Only the thought of Fasha and Kytha kept me sane after that. They were everything to me; more, now, that I had lost my little girl. I wanted Fasha and Kytha to grow up, not starve to death or contract a disease.

"All throughout the years I knew my people were suffering. It was all I could do to keep them from starving. Some left the fortress to find work in Hyrule Castle Town, but what Hylian wants a Gerudo? They became prostitutes, or slaves, or homeless. Many ended up dead in their first year. I know. Your father sent me back the bodies.

"The ones that stayed in the desert met the same fate as Arien; death in a sandstorm, death of illness or injury, or even killed outside the fortress. My niece, Arjikan, wanted to travel to the Great Bay to visit her sister. She never made it. We found her body four days later; she'd been robbed of all her possessions and been fatally stabbed. Her mother, my sister, took her own life less than a week later. She could not live without Arjikan, especially knowing that the girl had been pregnant.

"Then came the Great War. Do you know of it?" Zelda nodded. "The Zora fought the Gorons, the Sheikah fought the Zora, the Hylians intervened. Before long it was a hopeless struggle amongst races, the Gods alone know the reason it all began. Many of my advisors wanted to include the Gerudo in the battle. They hoped to take over some land. I was reluctant to agree. We were far too undersupplied, too weak, to put up much of a fight. But we could defend ourselves if we tried hard enough.

"Then things changed. The Hylians came one night, killing everyone in their path. We had hardly enough weaponry and able-bodied soldiers to fight back. We were victorious, but barely; nearly one hundred Gerudo died that day. They annihilated half the valley. Most of our water supplies, natural springs, were plugged with fallen rock and sand. Our few healers and medics were slain, their potions stolen."

"Your daughters?" whispered Zelda.

Ganondorf bowed his head. "They survived. However, the rest of my family was dead. My sisters, my nieces . . . nearly everyone that mattered to me. After that, it seemed impossible to stay out of the fight. We joined, fought, killed, stole everything we could carry on horseback. We knew we would soon regret it. And I did.

"Fasha wanted to fight. She wanted to get revenge against the Hylians for killing her cousin, my niece Jiyah. She was sixteen by then, a time when Gerudo were considered old enough for such things. But I refused to let her into the army. I was frightened. I did not want her to fight. She grew deeply angry with me, but I didn't care. As long as she was safe. I never thought . . . ." He hesitated. "I never thought that she would disobey me. The battle of Eldin Field, the last battle in Eldin Province, we fought against the Hylians and the Gorons. We killed quite a few, but then . . . ." He swallowed hard. "Among the magicians your father had . . . they destroyed half our regiment . . . but I destroyed them . . . and when we went to . . . to . . . to carry the bodies away, I . . . I found Fasha. She'd taken the place of Reian, one of the soldiers, and . . . she'd been killed by a Hylian archer. She was dead . . . before I could do anything." He closed his eyes. A single tear slid down his face.

Zelda gazed at him in wordless horror. "Dead?" she whispered.

Ganondorf nodded somberly. "So now I was alone, except for Kytha. By this time I was filled with a kind of . . . of mindless hatred. I hated the Hylians who took my family, I hated the desert for its unforgiving winds of death . . . Hyrule was the ultimate prize, a prize no one I knew and loved could ever attain. We were not accepted into your culture. I wanted to have Hyrule so badly, so my people could be safe . . . but I also wanted to destroy it, for it was that very land that refused to allow for one extra race.

"But most of all, I wanted King Daphnes dead.

"I set up trade agreements with the King's cabinet when the wars died down. I wanted peace, I said, but most of all, I wanted revenge. He agreed to give us food this time, and medicine, if we paid back everything we'd stolen. It hurt us, yes, but we started to do it . . . slowly, a few things at a time. In return, we received food . . . most of it was inedible. The medicine was spoiled, or fake. Frustrated, my hatred grew into a sort of madness. I ignored or mistreated Kytha whenever I was around her, chased away anyone who came too close . . . and I was too angry to realize that the bruises on my daughter's face were my own doing, that the other Gerudo watched me warily and muttered behind my back about my terrible violence, too afraid to face me directly.

"Around this time I learned of the Triforce. It became my obsession. Power to overthrow the Hylians and secure a better future for the remained of my tribe? _That _was the perfect avenue for all my plans. I could take all my rage, all my hatred, and turn it into a living nightmare for the Hylian people. I could achieve my revenge.

"But I was foolish. I allowed myself to be corrupted by that Golden Power. My tribe soon abandoned me, seeing how ruthless I had become. Instead of letting them into Hyrule, I made it into an uninhabitable wasteland. Instead of allowing the Gerudo to live in the Castle, I filled it with monsters, determined not to lose it. I gloated over every victory, raged over the fact that I could not control Kakariko. Every moment I spent wrapped in darkness was another second I nearly lost my mind . . . .

"And then came Link. The coming of the Hero, at least, I understood: the Gods were tired of my ruining their world. As much as I tried to fight the inevitable, I was cast down. At the time of my defeat, I saw Kytha, Fasha, Arien, my sisters, my nieces, everyone I ever loved. And I knew I'd committed the greatest sin of all. I had turned my back on my family when they needed me the most. And for that, I deserve the death coming for me. I have two weeks, yes?" Zelda nodded, and he sighed. "Well, in two weeks I will meet my fate. But death won't be any better for me."

"Why?"

Ganondorf looked away, out the tiny window, at the desert below. In a low, hard voice he said, "The Sages have told me that even in death I will be isolated from my family. They say I will end up in the Sacred Realm, held fast by the bonds of their power and that of the gods, for all of eternity. I'll never see Kytha . . . I wanted . . . ." His head dropped. "I wanted to at least say I how sorry I am for hurting her. I . . . I love her deeply. She was all I had, and I ignored her. I hurt her. How could I have done such a thing to her? How could I have done such a thing to everyone I knew, everyone I loved? I hate myself for what I've done. I know it is a just punishment, but . . . I can still dream, can I not? After all, she was my daughter . . . ."

Zelda hesitated. "I told you that I spoke with your daughter, Kytha, did I not?" He nodded. "Well . . . Kytha . . . she left a message for you with me, a message I wanted to wait to deliver. Kytha told me, she begged me to tell you . . . she begged me to tell you that she loves you. She loves you very much, and . . . ." Zelda blushed at the affectionate things she was forced to say to such a forbidding, reserved warlord. "She will never stop loving you. She does not blame you for what happened to her."

He faltered. "She does not blame me?"

Zelda shook her head. "She . . . this is all she told me, but, if I went down there and asked, I am sure she could tell me more. "

"No. That's enough for me."

Zelda smiled nervously. "All right," she said.

Ganondorf turned to the window. "You must go now. It is nightfall." His tone made it evident that he wanted to be left alone.

Zelda left the King's room then, not wishing to disturb his pensive state, promising to return in the morning. By then, the sun had set and the desert wind had turned cold. She shivered and pulled her cloak tightly around her. Kytha met her outside the door, and wordlessly guided her down the passageway and out of the temple, then followed Zelda out to her and Impa's camp. _You spoke to him? _she asked finally.

"Yes."

_You told him . . . ?_

"Yes. I told him that you do not blame him for what happened."

Kytha frowned. _I do, though. It is because of him that we died. But I forgive him. _Her frown deepened. _What did he say when you told him?_

"Nothing."

Kytha sighed. _Of course not. Perchance, could you give him a message the next time you go? There are some things I need to say to him._

"I will."

_Then let me write to him, through you._

Zelda acquiesced nervously and called power into her hand. A pen and paper appeared out of thin air. Quickly, she wrote without truly seeing the paper, merely acting as a physical channel for all the emotion that Kytha felt every moment of her undead existence. Tears flowed freely down Zelda's face as overwhelming images, thoughts, and feelings invaded her brain. But her hand continued to move across the page, in handwriting that was not quite her own. Rather, it was a mixing of hers and Kytha's, and definitely in Gerudo, making her unable to read it. But she really didn't need to, for her mind was changing, attuning to things she'd never experienced.

The interaction between the two princesses that night was a very strange one. Their identities shifted and melded; Zelda could almost _feel _the heart of the desert within her, feel the love the dead girl had shared with her sisters and her father. There was so much _here_, so many things Zelda hadn't been able to experience. One of the many things she felt in this whirlwind was an unfathomable bond between Kytha, Ganondorf, and the rest of the Gerudo, so unlike the cold distance between her and her father. There was pride here, and strength, and determination to survive. But it was all buried deeply beneath pain and misery. Tears dripped from the young Gerudo's face as well, dripping invisibly onto the paper and vanishing without leaving a trace. Her sorrow was shared by Zelda, who felt as though her heart was being ripped in two.

Three minutes later, Kytha released Zelda from her influence. The princess sat back, hands trembling, hardly able to breathe, her heart pounding in her chest. _Forgive me, _whispered Kytha. _I got carried away. I let myself go, let myself weep for my loss. I apologize for frightening you, for hurting you._

"It's not your fault," Zelda whispered. "I understand. I understand everything now."

Kytha paused. _I must leave you know,_ she said. _You have given me things to ponder. _She vanished into thin air.

Tears drying on her cheeks, Zelda took the note back to camp. Impa was waiting for her there, a sad smile on her face. She understood everything perfectly. She knew from the look in Zelda's eyes how helpless and confused she truly was. Wordlessly Zelda wrapped herself in a blanket and closed her eyes, knowing that her life would be forever altered from her contact with the tormented guardian of the Arbiter's Grounds.

* * *

Ganondorf was waiting for her first thing the next morning. She handed him the note. He scanned it quickly, his eyes softening, his expression turning unsure. "What does it say?" Zelda asked softly.

"Kytha . . . she says . . . ." he clenched the letter tightly in one hand. "She loves me no matter what. She says she'll see me again someday, she promises. I think it's a crazy dream. But she says how . . . how easily she can remember the way things were. She says she barely even remembers the pain I put her through. Because it's all in the past." He closed his eyes and sat motionless on his bed. Zelda shifted uncomfortably, feeling awkward about the silence. Finally, he said, "So what will you do now, Princess?" he asked quietly. "What happens to the Princess of Hyrule now that she's tended to her biggest problem, the King of Darkness?"

Zelda sighed. "I want to learn more about the Gerudo."

He observed her with cool amber eyes. "Why?" he asked flatly. "Why bother? We're a dead race. We're nothing but skeletons and spirits."

"Because Kytha was right, all those years ago. I am nothing but a potential mother to any man I ever have. I want to incorporate some of the rules the Gerudo set for themselves into Hylian law, perhaps win more rights for women, for children, for other races. What happened here . . . ." She broke off, then rushed ahead before she lost her nerve, "What happened here should never happen again." She bowed her head. "I do not want any more bloodshed."

He touched her hand, causing her to look up. "You honor my family and my tribe with your words," he said quietly. "I would be delighted to teach you everything I know, in order to preserve some memory of my people." Then he settled back into the bed, resting his back against the pillows. "Now, the Gerudo . . . ."

Impa opened her eyes. She could hear the crackling of the fire, and above it, rustling pages of some old book. Her crimson eyes, still heavy with sleep, rested on her young charge, who was indeed bent over a book, squinting in the light of a glowing sphere of energy. There was intense concentration written across her face.

"Zelda?"

The Princess looked up. "Impa. I did not want to awaken you."

Impa chuckled. "It is fine, Princess. No harm done." She looked thoughtfully at Zelda. "You have been at those books and notes for a week now. Can you not let them be? You need sleep."

Zelda shook her head. It had been seven days since Ganondorf promised to teach her about his tribe. Zelda had learned many things in that time, staying from dawn to sunset in that little tower room, reading from things she'd found in ruined libraries across the Grounds, listening to stories, even studying a bit of Gerudo language. She'd heard stories, myths, many told to younger children. They were stories he'd told Kytha, Arien, and Fasha so many years ago. In addition, Ganondorf taught her family history, tribal history, festivals, certain rites, laws, privileges, ways the Hylian and Gerudo cultures differed. Zelda absorbed all of it silently and ravenously, determined to learn as much as she could and remember it, keep it safe for the future.

Zelda tried to smile then. "Did you know," she said, in a falsely cheerful voice, "that Gerudo women protected each other no matter what the case? That they stuck together and kept their little ones, their older ones, their sick and hungry, safe? That everything they owned was shared, so no one suffered?"

Impa shook her head. "I did not."

"It is true. Their highest rule was loyalty above all. Loyalty to the desert, to the Sand Goddess, to each other, for without each individual Gerudo, there would be no Gerudo tribe." Her smile wavered, and she burst into tears. Impa slowly wrapped her arms around the princess, whispering soothingly to her. "Oh, Goddesses, I cannot understand. Why was Hyrule so cruel to these people? They only did what they had to survive."

"Because life is cruel, Zelda. Best learn that now, before it is too late. Their society allowed them to be all together, united. Ours does not."

"But why not? Why are Hylians not all together?" Zelda wiped her damp cheeks with an old cloth. "We have different levels of society. No one cares when an old homeless man dies. The only ones who care are that man's family. Why does no one else care? He was a man, a man like Father or Link, a man like any other, and yet no one mourns him when he dies. The Royal Family has beautiful, intricate marble tombs, and the homeless lie in roughly-dug holes. How can we live in peace knowing our people suffer?"

"Society forces Hylians to live in peace," said Impa. "Society defined by men far more powerful than you. Centuries Hyrule has lived this way. And perhaps it is best." Impa patted Zelda's cheek. "Now sleep, my dear. You cannot worry about this any longer. It will consume you. You have already been forced to accept the crown many years before your time, do not drive yourself insane worrying about things you cannot control. In two years you will be married, and then things will fall to your husband. Until then, put things out of your mind. Hyrule is safe and the Gerudo are dead. Is that not enough?"

"No," whispered Zelda, getting her blankets from the bag on the horse's back. "It is not enough. It will never be enough."

* * *

**Now that this is posted, I must again extend my sincerest apologies. Truth is, I really dislike ffn anymore. Too much junk to deal with that dA has much less of. Review if you still care.**


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